


Care and Keeping

by Variative



Category: Star Wars Legends: Republic Commando Series - Karen Traviss
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Military Fraternization
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-24
Updated: 2017-07-24
Packaged: 2018-12-06 05:39:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11594073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Variative/pseuds/Variative
Summary: “I’m just taking care of you,” Sev rumbled, dark and close. He pressed on the back of Jaing’s neck and he went easily, down onto the bedroll that Sev had laid out next to him. Jaing hadn’t noticed that.“Why?” he asked, turning his head away from Sev.“Because you looked dead on your feet when I saw you earlier. Because I know that I can,” Sev said, his hand smoothing down Jaing’s back. He stopped at Jaing’s belt and rubbed his fingers under it, just a little, just a tease, a question. “We might die tomorrow.”





	Care and Keeping

Jaing had dragged himself into his tent, peeled off his bucket, and collapsed face-down a while ago. It had been bad then, fatigue and pain and discomfort all trying to rip him in three different directions at once, and the situation hadn’t improved since. But this was fine, _really._ All he needed was to sleep for a little while—gods, three hours, that was all he was asking—and then he would have enough left over to deal with the rest of it.

Normally Jaing might have had stronger feelings about the rivulet of rainwater working its way under his cheek, or about the soggy mess that was the inside of his armor, or how the hunger cramps had already started, faded, and reared up again with a vengeance that showed no sign of leaving him now. Normally Jaing might have scraped himself up long enough to fix wherever the tent was leaking, or at least enough to roll onto a dry patch of tarp, or even onto his lovely soft bedroll which was only a little mildewed. But he was too exhausted to move and couldn’t see the point anyway, and the sound of the rain hammering down on the tent was as meditative and soothing as anything ever was. His hair dripped down the side of his face, and water ran off his armor and crept through the seams of his blacks to join the growing swamp. The weight of his body pressed him into the edges of his plates and pressed the thoughts slowly out of his head. Every time he closed his eyes he saw Mav blown to ribbons in front of him, so he kept his eyes open. 

No, he didn’t need to sleep after all. 

Air rasped in and out of his throat. The rivulet of water was down to his jaw.

Someone slapped the side of the tent by the entrance flap, and Sev’s distinctive growl carried above the noise of the rain. “Permission to enter, sir?”

“Come in,” Jaing said with effort. He pushed himself up onto his hands, and he heard the entrance flap zip open and shut. The tent was barely big enough to stand up in. Jaing couldn’t see Sev, but he almost could feel how he took up the space.

“You don’t have to get up,” Sev said, and a warm hand landed on the back of Jaing’s neck, bare skin hot as the barrel of a gun. 

The air collapsed out of Jaing’s mouth and he got up on his knees. His weight swayed, and Sev’s grip tightened. Some kind of lieutenant Jaing was. He was falling apart like a rusted droid. “What do you need, Sev?”

“Nothing,” Sev said. “Jaing.” He rubbed up through Jaing’s hair a little, strong fingers pressing.

Jaing cleared his throat and shook himself back from the grey haze that Sev’s hand on his neck wanted to push him into. “I get the impression that this is a very much off-regs— _against_ regs—unofficial, very _bad_ idea. That I should put to rest _right now_.”

“You probably should,” Sev agreed. His thumb rubbed along the soft hollow behind Jaing’s jaw.

He couldn’t speak.

“I won’t do anything you don’t want me to do,” Sev said quietly. “And I won’t do anything I don’t want to do. Not even if you ask me to.”

Jaing nodded. It was about all he could manage.

Sev moved his hand down to Jaing’s back. “Can I take your armor off?”

Jaing nodded again.

Sev’s hands moved easily over Jaing, releasing the catches and stacking the plates in the corner of the tent where they would be easy to get to. He stopped after Jaing was bare to the waist, his blacks stripped down in his lap. Every time Sev brushed Jaing’s bare skin he felt goosebumps rise. None of it was enough to shake him out of the low heavy fog pressing on the inside of his head. He didn’t want Sev to stop.

“Good?” Sev was behind him again, his fingers pushing through Jaing’s wet curls, scratching over his scalp. It wasn’t gentle and it felt so good. Jaing could feel Sev’s heat against his back.

“I hope you know what the hell you’re doing,” Jaing said thickly.

“I’m just taking care of you,” Sev rumbled, dark and close. He pressed on the back of Jaing’s neck and he went easily, down onto the bedroll that Sev had laid out next to him. Jaing hadn’t noticed that.

“Why?” he asked, turning his head away from Sev. His cheek was pressing into a seam and he scratched his day-old stubble against it absently.

“Because you looked dead on your feet when I saw you earlier. Because I know that I can,” Sev said, his hand smoothing down Jaing’s back. He stopped at Jaing’s belt and rubbed his fingers under it, just a little, just a tease, a question. “We might die tomorrow.”

“We might die at any point,” Jaing mumbled. He shifted his hips, an answer.

“Exactly,” Sev said. He unbuckled Jaing’s belt, pulled it and his kama and his empty holsters away. “I want to do this while I still can.” His hands came back. Jaing’s breathing stuttered, waiting for Sev to cross that line—but his fingers only skirted the edge, moved away, and then moved down to Jaing’s cuisses. Sev said, casual as if he hadn’t seen Jaing tense up, “I know how you look at me.”

Jaing didn’t have an answer for that. He closed his eyes. The space was warm with the heat from the two of them, and with his eyes shut it was a heady, senseless dark. His greaves, his boots, his boot liners came away. He was too tired to move.

Sev’s hands left his skin then, and Jaing heard him rustling around the tent and then the click of armor plates. Anticipation or anxiety clenched in Jaing’s gut, _what the hell is he doing and am I going to stop him?_ Sev came back and he took Jaing’s hand, and then he was running a soft dry cloth over the palm and between the fingers, careful of the split, swollen knuckles, and Jaing nearly moaned because it felt so good not to have that insidious damp in the creases of his palms, and Sev was massaging the cloth up Jaing’s forearm, up to his shoulder and then down his back, up to the other arm, mindful of the bruises and abrasions but not too careful either, and the dull flashes of pain were good too. Sev had to lean over Jaing to reach his other side. He wasn't wearing his armor, or the shirt of his blacks, though Jaing could feel the leggings rubbing against his own where Sev's knees pressed against Jaing's hip. Like this Sev's body was so close and so warm.

“There you go,” Sev rumbled, and then he rubbed the cloth over Jaing’s hair and his neck, wiping away the dirt and sweat and rainwater. Jaing shivered all over at the sensation of it.

“You’re a good CO,” Sev said. “The best I’ve ever had. You do so much.”

“‘M not that good,” Jaing mumbled, from what felt like a long ways off. “Wouldn’t let you do this if I was.”

“Do you want me to stop?”

Sev was rubbing slow circles with his flat palm in the middle of Jaing’s back. It was spreading waves of heat through his whole body. “No,” Jaing said.

“You’re a good officer,” Sev said again, “And you might be a stubborn, arrogant _shabuir_ , but you’re a good man, Jaing.”

His hand crept down and down and then pushed under Jaing’s blacks, over the bare skin of his hip, and Sev lay over him and put his mouth under Jaing’s ear. Jaing was flushed now, trying to tense up with nerves. He couldn’t: he was too loose and exhausted, and he didn’t want to make Sev stop. The weight and warmth of him felt so good. Sev rubbed his index finger back and forth over Jaing’s hipbone. “You take care of us,” Sev murmured. “I just want to return the favor. I want to be good to you the way you’re good to all of us.”

“Sev,” Jaing slurred, only half-conscious under Sev, under the slow back-and-forth motion of his finger and the soft press of his mouth.

Sev shifted, tucking himself up against Jaing and putting his head down on the bedroll, and then pulled Jaing to him until they were pressed together chest-to-back, all tangled together. Sev said quietly, “Go to sleep, Jaing.”

This time it was easy.

**Author's Note:**

> So, if it's totally confusing or unclear, this is set in some alternate universe where Jaing is at one point Delta Squad's commanding officer on an op. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯


End file.
